


Bats of the West

by GeekintheCorner



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Also they all get along!, Alternate Universe - Historical, Background Case, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Family Bonding, Gen, JUST, Kidnapping, No Romance, No Slash, Not Exactly but There Isn't a Wild West AU Tag, The Batfam are ranchers/detectives/cowboys, implied Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle - Freeform, no creepy shipping here yall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekintheCorner/pseuds/GeekintheCorner
Summary: The Detectives. A family shrouded in mystery. The rumors began almost 15 years ago, when reports of uncatchable outlaws being caught and left inside jail cells across the country started to spread like wildfire. How they were connected to Gotham, no one knew, but slowly people began to associate the western town with the Detectives.Or,The family can't help but try to stop crime no matter what universe they're in, they just happen to be cowboys in this one.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Clark Kent, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Batfam Big Bang 2020





	1. The Client

**Author's Note:**

> This is my work for the Batfam Big Bang! It was so fun to write this and work with my betas [@shelbychild](https://shelbychild.tumblr.com/), [@fandomanddenial](https://fandomanddenial.tumblr.com/), and @houser-of-stories! And I was absolutely blown away by the art created for this fic by @dariadraws [Here](https://dariadraws.tumblr.com/tagged/Bats-Of-The-West), from @sketphire[ Here ](https://sketphire.tumblr.com/post/630781570366717953/a-babs-and-cassie-portrait-for-the-awesome-the) and [Here](https://sketphire.tumblr.com/post/630782982027935745/another-fanart-of-the-bats-of-the-west-by), and playlist created by @butterflyslinky [ Here](https://butterflyslinky.tumblr.com/post/630770963450101761/image-id-scratchy-hand-written-words)!!
> 
> No characters here belong to me and all rights should go to DC.

The Detectives. A family shrouded in mystery. The rumors began almost 15 years ago, when reports of uncatchable outlaws being caught and left inside jail cells across the country started to spread like wildfire. How they were connected to Gotham, no one knew, but slowly people began to associate the western town with the Detectives, as well as the cases they solved.

Local word has always said that if you want to get in contact with the elusive rancher or his five sons, you have to go through one of three people. The first and most obvious choice is his house manager, one Alfred Pennyworth. The man is almost as much of a mystery as The Detective himself. Those few in town who he speaks to on his errands know the man to be a foreigner, but no one dares to discount him on this fact. The last foolish man who chose to question Pennyworth’s heritage was found the next day hanging by his feet from an old maple tree right beside the general store. However, even he only appears in town once in a blue moon, so often the need to turn towards a different contact arises. 

The second figure openly connected to The Detectives is a woman by the name of Selina Kyle. As the owner and manager of one of the town’s more popular establishments, The Cat Saloon, obtaining an audience with Kyle is almost more of a chore than speaking to Pennyworth. One must first find one of her trusted employees during the day; there’s no hope that Kyle would spare anyone the time of day during business hours. The most amiable of these employees, Brown or Quinn, may bring your problem to her attention in haste. But a less amiable employee, such as the likes of Isley, is more likely to leave the matter alone; the problem will never even reach Kyle, much less The Detective. Even if the matter reaches Kyle herself, its final destination is still uncertain. She is as cunning and chaotic as the cat for which her saloon is named, and if the request does not suit her, then there is every possibility she will simply forget it ever existed.

The last and least connected to The Detective is Sheriff Gordon. Some say that someone bought him off one day, and that now the sheriff is forever under The Detectives’ control. Others say the only reason Gordon knows the vigilantes is through his daughter’s relationship with one of them. Others yet, the more level headed of Gotham’s citizens, say that the man is simply friends with the mysterious man, as he is with most of the local ranchers. Whatever the case, if a matter needs to be brought to attention then Gordon is certainly the safest bet, if not the most effective. 

Clark Kent stares at the person across from him. “So I should contact Sheriff Gordon then?”

The red-headed young man looks offended. “That’s all you got out of that whole,” he waves his hands around, “long, winding, complicated story?”

Clark’s eyebrows draw together. “Yes?”

The man throws up his hands and looks towards the bar’s oak ceiling. “Who even appreciates the art of storytelling anymore?”

Clark shifts uncomfortably on his bar stool and twists his hat between his hands. 

His companion looks back towards him and lets out a breath through his mouth. “Fine, yeah, Gordon’s probably your safest bet.”

Clark nods to himself and stands to his feet. “Well, thank you for all your help.” He hesitates before adding, “and the, er, story too.” 

He makes it a few steps before the young man calls from behind him, “Hey! You never said why you want to speak with The Detectives.”

Clark turns back around and notices the younger man’s curious face. “I heard he can find people who can’t be found.”

Without another word he turns towards the door and places his hat on top of his head, pulling it down to shade his eyes. His Ma would have been disappointed to see his lack of manners, but she wasn’t exactly there to swat him over his head anymore, was she?

Clark walks down the street towards the jailhouse; hopefully the sheriff will still be there so he won't have to wait until the next day to plead his case. This is his last chance, and every moment he's postponed is another second that they’re in danger.

Gotham is not a large town by any account; in fact, it’s smaller than Clark’s hometown of Metro. From what he has learned, it hadn’t even experienced a boom like most western towns, and is mainly used by the outlying ranchers and cattle runners coming from farther west. The crime rate is, and has been for about fifteen years, exponentially lower than the rest of the west. There were rumors as to the cause for that, but only one of those has led Clark Kent to seek out the town and a certain inhabitant therein.

The white paint on the jailhouse’s door stands out in sharp contrast against the wooden planks of the building’s exterior, and the brass doorknob is shiny and worn. Clark opens and steps through the squeaking door and into a small office area. Towards the back of the wood-paneled room sits a closed cell with rough iron bars, and a lone blonde haired woman sits dejectedly in front of the cell’s single bed. The desk towards the front of the room is occupied by a fiery-haired young woman whose light purple dress is rolled up at the sleeves. She hasn’t noticed Clark yet, seemingly too focused on the document in her hand, eyes racing across the page behind rectangular spectacles. 

“Ahem.” 

She looks up at the noise Clark makes and smiles politely. “Hello sir, how can I help you today?”

“I uh, I need to speak with Sheriff Gordon.”

“Hmm.” Her head cocks to the side a little. “I’m afraid the Sheriff is out of town for the moment. I could give him a message for you when he returns.”

Dammit. Out of town could mean the sheriff won’t be available for hours, to possibly even days. Clark doesn’t have that kind of time. He would have to go try the saloon before nightfall, then try here again tomorrow. He notices the woman still staring at him intently; it couldn’t hurt to leave a message anyway, he supposes. “I was told he could set up a meeting with the Detective, but I can come back another time if he isn’t available.” 

The young woman grins. It isn’t exactly a comforting sight. “Actually it’s lucky you caught me instead. I’m Barbara Gordon, Sheriff Gordon’s niece and effective town Deputy. I don’t think I’ve ever made your acquaintance, Mister..?”

“Kent. Clark Kent.”

Ms. Gordon rolls her wheelchair around the side of the desk and sticks out her hand. It takes a second for Clark to properly process this new development, but once he does he reaches out to shake her hand.

“Well then Mr. Kent, can you tell me why you need to speak with Mr. Wayne?” Her hazel green eyes are accessing as they peer up and into his own blue ones. 

He hadn’t intended to tell anyone of his problem except for The Detectives themselves. He doesn’t know what might happen to his sons if too many people catch wind of his search. But this is his most secure lead yet, and hadn’t the young man at the bar said that one reason Gordon had any connection to the Detective was through his niece anyway? This is his one chance, and he is going to take it. 

Clark swallows thickly before answering. “My sons. Jon and Conner. They were… taken. About a month ago.”

Ms. Gordon’s face falls slightly, but she only takes a few seconds to ask her second question, “By who?”

Clark has no idea how the Deputy knew it was someone she’d recognize. Maybe something in his tone had given away the hopelessness of the situation; it doesn’t matter in the end, as long as she’s still willing to help. “The Face gang. It was—they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Something shifts in Ms. Gordon’s eyes at the notorious gang's name and she presses her lips together. “I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. The Detectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the Waynes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was almost late posting this, but I finally got to my laptop again :) Hope y'all enjoy this chapter and remember to go check out the amazing art!

The sun is just rising over the distance, and the sky behind Wayne mansion is a blur of orange, pink, and blue. This is Dick’s favorite time of day. The herds are just waking up, the birds are singing, and the sun isn’t high enough to be the nuisance it normally is. Generally, he’s the one chosen to do the early morning rounds as he’s by far the earliest riser in the family (except perhaps Damian, who isn’t quite old enough to check the grounds by himself.) On this particular morning, there had been no problems beyond an overturned water trough. 

Dick is riding Nightwing back towards the stables when he sees a familiar carriage pulling up in the distance. A grin spreads across his face and he nudges his mare forward to meet his fiancee before she can make it to the ranch. Pulling up alongside her, he tips his hat in her direction. 

“Hello there darling, where could you possibly be heading on the fine Friday morning?”

Babs smiles at him and pulls on Oracle’s reins until she slows enough to match his pace.

“Oh, just to visit a boy.”

Dick’s eyes twinkle. “Oh? Do I happen to know him?”

“I dunno. Are you friends with many showoff cowboys?”

Dick gasps dramatically. “Babs how could you say that? Jason would be so hurt.”

Barbara laughs.

As the ranch comes into view, Dick leans over the side of Babs’ carriage and pecks her on the cheek. “What are you actually doing out here? I thought you weren’t supposed to visit until Monday.”

She sighs lightly. “I’ve brought a case.”

Dick smirks. “I knew it. A good one?”

“An important one. It’s a kidnapping case, two boys. I highly suspect the Face gang’s involvement.”

Dick sobers. They all knew the seriousness of a Face kidnapping; most people didn’t last long, but those that did… Well, it wasn’t good. To make it worse, the ring leader was a Gotham native – Dick had met the man on several occasions before he went rogue. Bruce had even been friends with him. That changed of course when Dent had decided the best way to erase his debts was to hold Dick himself for ransom. It hadn’t ended well for Bruce’s old friend, but he had still managed to escape the jailhouse the next evening. No one had been able to find him, and the entire west had suffered as a result. Bruce still blames himself for the damage his once upon a time friend was able to inflict. 

Dick shakes himself out of that line of thought. “Well, I think Bruce is in the barn, so we’ll meet you in the house?” 

Babs shoots him a small, relieved smile and spurs her horse on towards the large ranch house. Dick shakes his head; it always astounds him that even after all these years, Babs still doesn’t quite trust that he and Bruce trust her as much as they do each other. They would be high-class morons if they believed anything different. 

He turns Nightwing towards one of the property’s largest stables and clicks his tongue to urge her faster. 

Bruce is talking with one of their more recently hired stable hands when Dick leads his mount into the first padlock and goes to cool her down. 

“Hey Bruce?” His voice carries down the length of the barn, and he hears Bruce pause in his conversation before quickly saying his goodbyes. The sound of his boots marching down the stone-paved ground echoes towards him as he takes off the last of ‘Wing’s equipment. 

“What is it, Dick? Everything okay?” Bruce’s tone is slightly worried and Dick rolls his eyes good naturedly; Bruce’s paranoia is almost too alert sometimes, but he knows it’s just B’s way of looking out for him, so he doesn’t comment.

“Everything’s fine, B. Babs is just here with a case - she said something about the Face gang.” 

The same flash of emotion that Dick felt when he heard that name shows in Bruce’s eyes for just a second, before it’s covered up with determination and a hint of curiosity. 

“Hmm.”

“Exactly my thoughts.” B picks up on the intended sarcasm and shoots him a look that says exactly what he thinks of that.

“Back to the house?” he asks.

“Yeah, should I wake up the others?”

“No.” Bruce shakes his head lightly. “Damian had a long night yesterday, and lord knows Tim can use all the sleep we can force him into. I believe Jason is awake, if you want to fetch him.”

“Alright, I’ll grab a notepad too; Tim’ll want to know everything when he wakes up.”

They take the time to wash up before going into the house, as they both know Alfred would tan their hides if they even tried to do otherwise. 

By the time Dick tracks down Jason, Babs is already sitting beside Alfred in the back drawing room - the more casual one that they all call the scheming room whenever Alfred is out of earshot. Alfred says something that makes Barbara chuckle loudly, and despite the serious situation, he can’t help the small smile that crosses his face. He quickly crosses the room to the futon beside where she’s parked her chair (she must not be planning on staying long since she didn’t take her usual place on the couch), and gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek before she can stop him.

“Dick!” A slight blush rises in her face that just makes him grin wider. 

“That’s for calling me a showoff.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he sits down at the other end of the couch.

Dick ruffles his little brother’s hair to annoyed grumblings and a swatted-away hand, before flopping down between him and Babs’ chair, his hand sneaking over the couch’s armrest to lightly grasp hers. He feels the cool metal of her golden engagement ring under his fingers and another short burst of affection shoots through him.

Bruce settles down into one of the armchairs and politely murmers a thank you in Alfred’s direction when he’s passed a teacup. “Barbara, how are you and the Sheriff faring?” 

“As well as always, Bruce.” Barbara has an amused smile on her face; she knows Bruce is overly formal like this to everyone. “My uncle said to pass along his compliments to Alfred for that last peach pie.” 

“Of course Miss Barbara,” their more-than-a-butler says, setting down his tea cup. 

“But,” the undertone of her voice takes on what Tim had once called her ‘teacher’ voice (Dick thinks more of a circus’ ringmaster, but then again, those had been very similar things to him during the first part of his life). “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“We did not believe otherwise,” Bruce says for everyone currently in the room and out of it.

“A man came to the jailhouse late yesterday afternoon, with an…interesting problem.” She draws herself up in her chair as if bracing herself for a blow. “A kidnapping.”

“Oh.” The wind goes out of Dick’s lungs. Every one of them hate kidnapping cases - they rarely wind up with happy endings.

“Yes.” Babs lips are drawn into a tight, painful line, and it makes Dick want to pull her into his arms and not let anything hurt her, but he knows she’s strong and capable, even more so than Dick on many occasions, so he just gives her hand a squeeze.

“Well then.” Alfred clears his throat. “Time is of the essence. Give us the case, Miss Gordon.”

Dick readies his pencil and settles into his seat with grim determination.

___________

Thirty minutes of grim details and speculations later Jason speaks for the first time as Babs wraps up her encounter with Clark Kent.

“And this guy, where’s he from?” Jason has an odd tone in his voice. Dick would almost call it mischievous if he didn’t know better.

“Metro, we’ve been over this. They had that big train robbery a month or so back remember? Two men were shot.” Babs seems impatient.

“So he did make it to Babs then, great.” A smirk has settled firmly across Dick’s younger brother’s sun-tanned face.

Bruce turns to his second-oldest son. “Have you already met this Mr. Kent?”

Oh, Dick is so glad he’s not in Jason’s boots right now.

“Uh- yeah?” Bruce’s raised eyebrow prods him into elaborating. “At Henry’s bar. He was asking ‘round about the ‘Detectives,’ so I thought I’d help ‘im out a bit.”

“So you sent him to the sheriff instead of just- I don’t know- helping him yourself?” Babs has raised her left eyebrow in an almost perfect imitation of Alfred himself.

Jason throws up his hands. “Well it’s not like I knew he was looking for a couple of kidnapped kids! I just thought he was the usual type of guy to look for us.” As in the type of person who just wants to meet the myth and the legend that is the Wayne family.

Babs throws him one last disapproving look before speaking to the group again. “As I was saying, he thinks the gang didn’t kill them because one of the guys he and his wife hired before us found out about some rumors of Face running a scam with a couple of kids in Krypton. The Kents think those kids are Jon and Konner.”

“I had heard rumors of a string of scams involving Face in the past month, but that’s nothing new.” Bruce taps his chin thoughtfully. “I can head out to Metro tomorrow to investigate the crime scene.”

“You?” Dick raises an incredulous eyebrow. “B, you’re a fool if you think you can keep the rest of us away from this one.”

Jason nods in confirmation and Babs snorts a laugh.

Bruce looks to Alfred to help, but the older man just stares back.

The Wayne patriarch sighs in defeat and rubs at his temples. “You all better be saddled up and packed by sunrise or I’m leaving without you.”

Dick grins and sees the expression reflected on Jason’s face.

“Don’t forget Kent, you’ll need to stop by and pick him up from Selina’s,” Barbara points out. Bruce just grunts in confirmation and stands before stalking out of the room. Dick rolls his eyes, glad he never picked up his adoptive father’s penchant for drama. Well, he isn’t  _ quite  _ as dramatic as Bruce, anyway.

Alfred turns to Babs. “I do hope you’ll stay for dinner.”

Dick perks up and turns imploring eyes on his fiance. 

She smiles. “Of course, Alfred. It would be a shame to miss out on your shepherd's pie.”


	3. Meet the Waynes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The posse sets off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late, I am sorry

Clark jars awake to a knock on his hotel room’s door. He can’t remember when he fell asleep.The last thing he remembers is sitting on his bed and staring out the window, hoping that some miracle would come walking up the street.

Pulling a hand through his hair he yawns and hollers through the door, “I’ll be right there!”

He stumbles to the door, buttoning his shirt up along the way. He twists the doorknob and winces as the hinges loudly protest the movement. 

On the other side of the doorway stands two men with black hats and differently colored bandanas pulled up over their noses. Well, one man and a young adult. The man is almost as tall as Clark and is dressed head to toe in black except for a small gold and blue jewel studded pocket watch. The younger of the two is dressed in a red shirt with nicely made tanned leather boots.

“Clark Kent?” the older one asks, but the way he says it lets Clark know it’s less of an inquiry and more of a formality.

“That’s me, can I help you?”

The two exchange a glance and the younger shifts forward slightly, “We’re here to help you, actually. Two days ago you asked Ms. Gordon to bring your case to the attention of a certain group of people. We are those people.” 

“Oh.” Clark opens the door fully and straightens up. This is good, he doesn’t know what to do, but this is good. He must be silent for too long because the younger of the two tilts his head and says, “The only requirement of our services is that you swear to not reveal our identities to anyone, otherwise we and our other associates are willing to take on your case.”

It takes a few seconds for the ma- boy’s, words to fully process, but once they do Clark responds readily, “Of course, anything to find my boys.”

“Great!” The smaller one claps his hands together. “We leave for the scene of the crime in ten minutes. Just look for the large group of masked people on horses.” Then he walks away. Just like that. Clark turns his bewildered gaze on the remaining man in black but he too has disappeared at some point and Clark is left standing by himself in his hotel room doorway.

__________________________ 

Clark tries not to be impatient with the hotel stablehand. It’s her job to saddle and prepare all departing visitors’ horses; she doesn’t know that Clark is the best choice to quickly saddle Kal. Still, he finds himself tapping his finger against his thigh as the blonde takes what feels like an exceptional amount of time to attach his saddle bags. He knows it’s been longer than ten minutes, and he’s barely holding onto the hope that the detectives won’t change their minds and simply leave him behind before he can get out to them.

Just as this thought crosses Clark’s mind for the third or fourth time a rider on a dark grey stallion comes trotting through the stable’s open door. With a start he realizes said rider is the younger of the two men he had met at his door, only now his red bandana is pulled down to rest under his chin. 

“Steph!” he yells across the open space. 

“City boy!” the stablehand yells back, and finishes with the last buckle on Clark’s horse before stepping forward to scratch the grey horse between the ears. “How’s it going Red? Still putting up with your dumb*ss owner?”

“Hey, at least I don’t torture him with lavender all the time.”

‘Steph’ scowls up at the young man, “Spoiler enjoys her flower braids thank you very much.”

“Of course.” Clark can practically hear his eyes roll, and as much as he doesn’t want to interrupt their banter….

“Excuse me,” he starts awkwardly and both of their heads swivel to look at him. “Could I-”

“Oh so sorry, your horse is all ready to go Mr. Kent. We hope you had a wonderful stay at The Cat Saloon.” Steph smiles politely as she passes him Kal’s reigns. 

“Thank you,” he says, mounting Kal but pausing before riding out the door. He throws a glance towards the young man.

“Around the corner and two rights,” he tilts his head in that direction. “Tell ‘em I’ll be there soon, will you?”

Clark nods and leaves the stable behind.

“How’d you know him?” the stablehand’s voice follows him out the door.

Clark is surprised to find not two or three people waiting for him but five. All of them are dressed in the best type of riding attire, and each has a bandana around their face in varying colors. One sitting astride a pure black mare waves at him and Clark would bet the man is smiling behind his blue bandana. 

Clark nods towards the man dressed in black from earlier, sitting at the front of the assembled group and he nods solemnly back. 

Just as Clark is wondering who to deliver the young man’s message to, one of the riders sidles up next to Kal and turns nonchalantly towards him. “Did you see Timmy by any chance?”

He relaxes a little, “Yes, he said to tell y’all he’d be here soon.” Clark’s brow furrows, “Do I know you?” 

The man is sitting astride a brown and white spotted mare and has the same quality of clothing as the rest of the band, but it’s the tan hat and worn out gun that Clark recognizes. 

He freezes up slightly and glances at somebody ahead of them before sighing lightly. “Yeah, I was the chap you spoke to at the saloon the other day, I’m Jason.”

Clark’s eyes widen almost comically. “Well then why didn’t you just-”

“Shh,” the man hisses sharply, glancing towards the front of the group again.

Clark complies with narrowed eyes which urge Jason to continue speaking. 

“Look. If’in I’d known you were looking for your kids I would have been more helpful, but as it is, most characters that want our help aren’t after something so important.” After a few seconds of silence Jason winces before tacking on, “I apologize.”

Only with slight reluctance nods in acceptance and Jason’s shoulders relax before he moves ahead to talk with Blue Bandana.

Soon the rider from earlier, Timothy, reaches the back of the group. The leader spurs his horse forward and the group starts riding in the direction of Metro. No one says anything for a while, just keeping the horses at a steady trot away from town. It’s a bit unnerving to only hear the sound of seven sets of hooves pounding away at the ground and not a single other noise. None of his companions show any discomfort though, so Clark keeps quiet and tries to focus on the horizon and the rising hope that his children will be found. And not on the thought that he just let himself be led into the middle of nowhere with a group of masked strangers. Not thinking about that.

Eventually the man with the blue bandana, who is riding towards the front and beside the leader, breaks the silence, “I think we’re far enough out B.”

The leader, B apparently, grunts and blue bandana immediately slows his horse to fall back to where the smallest member is riding. 

Clark turns his head around again to see that every other member of the party is now talking quietly with those around them. Blue bandana is gesturing wildly towards the smallest member of the posse, a boy with dark hair and tanned skin. Timmy is speaking to Jason with occasional input from yet another dark haired young man.

That leaves the leader, B apparently, by himself. Good. That means he’s free to speak with Clark. Steeling himself for an awkward conversation he pushes Kal forward and to the front of the group.

He clears his throat, “I don’t believe we’ve properly met. I’m-”

“Clark Kent, I know,” he’s interrupted. “Bruce Wayne. Though, you might know me as the Detective.”

Clark stifles his offense at being interrupted and plows forward, “I take it you're the leader of the group?”

“Close,” Wayne grunts out. “I’m their father actually.”

Clark raises an incredulous eyebrow. “To all of them?”

“Adopted.”

This in no way solves Clark’s questions, but he leaves it at that anyway.

He just shakes his head and asks his next question, “Are you all really as good as they say you are?”

The man beside him grunts in acknowledgement.

When he isn’t forthcoming with anything else (Clark expected him to give a reason, maybe examples, at least a prideful agreement) Clark pushes down a surge of irritation.

“Can I ask why we’re goin’ to the scene of the crime?” Wayne’s glance sharpens, but at least that’s some emotional reaction and not… whatever he had been doing before. “There’s nothing there, it's been a month.”

Wayne locks eyes with him and Clark tries not to waver under his gaze. “If you are implying that we are in some way wasting precious time Mr. Kent, please do so, but know that there are always ways to glean information from a crime scene, no matter how old it is.” His tone softens slightly. “My children and I are doing everything we can to find your boys.”

Clark gives a hesitant nod of his head and turns back in his attention back to the ground in front of him.

“But,” he gives another glance towards one of the famed Detectives and Wayne looks almost uncomfortable. “If you were able to… recount what happened that day your story may help give us some preliminary clues.” 

Clark goes back to looking at the ground. He doesn’t want to share those terrifying moments with this man — this stranger. The fear, the agony that still haunts him into all of his quiet moments is something he never wants to explain to another soul.

He doesn’t have a choice though.

______________________________________________________________________________

It had been a normal day. Lois had sent the boys and Clark into town for some basic groceries and chicken feed. Clark had asked Conner to deposit a check for him while he finished speaking with Mr. Brown, Jon had tagged along for the promise of a lemon drop. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, it wasn’t anything for him to be worried about. 

Then he heard the gunshot. He can still remember the feeling, it was like his heart had stopped beating and began racing all at once. Time had slowed down to a halt and sped up to a bullet’s speed all at once. 

He and everyone else in the store had ran. Some ran for home, others for the sheriff. But Clark, he had sprinted for the bank. 

He had been too late. 

The memory of the thieves’ horses racing off into the distance is one that haunts his nightmares, second only to the scene that came after. 

He had stumbled into the building, hands shaking as he shouted his sons’ names at the top of his lungs. 

And there on a floor covered in blood, had lain three bodies.

Later he would learn they were the clerk and a couple of travellers stopping in Metro to see their daughter. One of the pair had survived long enough to tell him that his boys were taken before passing on in her sleep.

He had immediately gathered as many people as would come to follow the trail. They had tracked the gang for a week before the trail ran cold and the rest of the group had returned to Metro. 

Clark had refused to give up he begged the local sheriff for help, but when none came he had set out on his own. Lois had tried to come with him, but he had left too quickly for her to follow and couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. It had been his fault; he had to be the one to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked that, thanks for reading!!
> 
> The next chapter is still in the works so it might be a bit late. Again. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are awesome!!

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a couple chapters of this all ready to go so definite updates once a week on Fridays for at least the rest of October, and hopefully after that as well. After that I've got some one-shot ideas for backstories around each Batfam member (and maybe the Kents). 
> 
> Honestly this idea was sort of a wild one for me, and I was happily surprised when so many people were interested in it as well! This fic honestly would not be here today if it wasn't the help and support of my betas and artists, I cannot thank them enough! 
> 
> As always kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and maybe give my  Tumblr a look!


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